The Playboy Next Door

“Yeah.” He bobs his head and blond hair falls onto his forehead. “She’s always been like that. Like our mother. Em wouldn’t even take things from our parents if she didn’t feel like she deserved them.”

“This will be good for her. And for you.”

I turned onto Delaware Avenue, and our apartment building came in view. We live at Penn’s Landing, with a perfect view of the Delaware River. From our living room windows, we can see the Camden Waterfront.

A lot of our teammates live in the building. Even Alex Parker, the player I idolized growing up, lives two floors above us with his wife. They’re the epitome of the power couple—star hockey player and top sports agent. Both of them have since retired and passed the torch to their children.

Emma rides my bumper, following me like she doesn’t know how to get to the apartment I share with Ollie and Brady O’Shea. She’s been here hundreds of time. Even spent some nights with us after her ex left her high and dry.

Until tonight, Emma lived in Old City. It’s not cheap to live there. I was actually surprised she remained in her old apartment after she had to close Giovanni’s Trattoria. She named the place after her dad, who, according to Ollie, was a damn good cook.

I feel for Emma. Her life hasn’t been easy since her parents’s death. Everything Ollie touches turns to gold, while his twin is the Murphy’s Law girl. Anything that can go wrong will with Emma.

That was my childhood.

At least it felt that way growing up after my mom left us. So I know what it’s like to lose everything and have no way of preventing the fallout.

Once we reach the building, I pull into the garage and fly up the ramp to the top floor. I specifically asked for assigned parking up here. Anything to keep people away from my baby, aka my brand new Aston Martin Vantage. She’s the only girl in my life, aside from the random puck bunnies, who are never a permanent fixture in my life.

Emma parks beside me. I bought both of the reserved spaces so no one could park near my car. I’m a control-freak about my vehicles.

Ollie gets out of the car and gestures for Emma to open her trunk. Before I turn off the engine, he’s unloading the two suitcases Emma packed. For a woman, she doesn’t have a lot of stuff. I was expecting her to use one bag for just her shoes and makeup.

I take one bag from Ollie, and we walk toward the elevators with Emma between us. She’s so tiny compared to my six foot four inches. Now dressed in a V-neck sweater that shows off her cleavage, Emma looks stunning. Her hair and skin is now free of powdered sugar and chocolate. The skinny jeans hug her in all the right places.

When we arrived at her apartment, she had food in her blonde hair that was piled on top of her head. She would look beautiful in a poncho, but damn if she’s not tempting me even more than normal right now.

Emma looks up when we stop in front of the elevator. She catches me staring down the front of her shirt, holding my gaze with a wild expression in her emerald irises. We exchange a heated look laced with frustration and sexual tension. That never goes away. From the moment I met Ollie’s sister, I wanted her.

But with Ollie being my best friend, teammate, and roommate, that complicates things. Ollie’s never flat out said I couldn’t hookup with her. Though I know he would not be okay with my usual flings. If I ever wanted Emma for real, I would have to commit to her. Otherwise, Ollie would probably murder me in my sleep.

When the elevator doors open, I press my hand on Emma’s lower back and follow behind her. She leans against the mirror on the wall, keeping her distance from me. Even when she’s not looking at me, I know what she’s thinking.

The feelings are mutual.

Back when she was engaged to the asshole, I could read the desire in her eyes. She could never hide it from me, which only made me pursue her more. I’ve waited too long for her to be single. It was so obvious she would never make it down the aisle.

Ollie hops off the elevator first, rolling Emma’s pink suitcase down the hall to our apartment. It’s probably too much space for three men. We have seven bedrooms that mostly collect dust and are full of shit we either were too lazy to throw out or needed to store.

Emma’s eyes roam around the living room as we enter the apartment. She does this every time she comes here. Eyes wide, mouth open, she always looks like a kid seeing Disney World for the first time. The ceilings are abnormally high, with an entire wall of windows that spans the entire room. The living room, dining room, and kitchen all flow into each other, an open concept that makes the space seem massive.